some things never change
by checkerboxed
Summary: [one.shot][challenge.fic] we're just not one of them. [riku x kairi x sora][for myxbeautifulxlove]


**some things never change  
**_we're just not one of them--------  
_challenge.fic for myxbeautifulxlove  
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The sun is rising. Gold splashes everywhere around them, basking Kairi and Sora and Riku in a glow that is reminiscent of their childhood. All three are tired, tired of the lives they are leading, tired of the people they have become, tired of wondering who else they could have been. Sora is tired of wondering what would have happened if he had stayed the way he used to be; able to look at everything with a positive eye, able to make it through the hardships with a smile on his face. Kairi is tired of wishing she hadn't been the first one to leave— would things have changed? Would they have stayed, and would this have been a habit, not a reunion? Riku is tired of the monotonous drone his life has taken: get up, go to work, go to sleep. All three won't say it, but they are actually happy, right now, for the first time in years. The sunrise is bringing them back to when they were happy all the time; when they were young, and carefree, and ready to fight their battles.

Sora leans back against the tree trunk, a fit that is as awkward now as it had been comfortable then. He has grown too old for this tree, for the island, but the island has not changed. He wonders how long it will stay this way— he tries to picture it when it was still new, and what it will become, but he can't. All he sees are the beautiful white beaches, the young trees all reaching up for light. Sora remembers a dream he had when he was younger, about leaving and coming back and finding the island in chaos, broken and shattered in the dim light of sunset. He wonders whether that was some kind of foreshadowing, and then shakes that thought away. He is older, and he understands now. Life isn't a storybook. Life doesn't give you metaphors, or foreshadowing, or symbolism. Life doesn't give you a happy ending.

Riku is stretched out against the light wood of the tree, arms crossed against his somber gray suit. Gray isn't his color, and never was; he was a boy of yellows, and blues, the color of the sun that rose above the water. Gray is the color of old men and sorrow— which, now that he thinks about it, fits him. He is still less than thirty, but he has matured so much that he hardly considers himself young. And god knows he's had enough sorrow in his life. Riku knows that going back to his life as he leads it will be the hardest thing he's ever had to do, and, right now, he's not sure whether he can do it. He considers hopping on that decrepit raft that's still wobbling in the cove and sailing away, far enough away that he won't remember his world. But he can't, because you can't leave your past behind. Being here, today, is proof enough of that.

Sighing, Kairi pulls her legs closer to her. She is sitting cross-legged on the ground, near Riku's feet— a position hardly proper for a woman of her standing. But right now is a time for memories, not cordialities, so she ignores the strain her skirt makes, stretching between her knees, and leans her head against the familiar grain of the wood. She is living in a world of manners and graces, a world so distant from her past she wonders if they're still the same world at all. No one treats her like these boys did; no one sits her down and scolds her for thinking she can't do the same things they can just because she's a girl, no one races her across the sand, no one smiles at her like they did. She supposes she must accept that, because Riku and Sora are two-of-a-kind and no matter how hard life is on them, they always will be.

Sora tilts his head to look at Riku. "Will we always be able to come here?" he asks, and just like that they are back in the roles they played as teens; Riku the leader, Kairi the soother, Sora the laugher.

Riku folds his arms tighter across his suit, watching the sun. He is silent for a long time. "I don't know," he says after a moment, smoothing his fingers against the bark of the wood. "I feel like this place is for kids. I feel like we're intruding."

Kairi glances backward toward the dock, where their tiny, falling-apart boats are bobbing in the waves. "Maybe you're right," she says, twisting a loose strand of hair back into the neat bun, "Maybe we've grown up too much."

Shaking his head, Sora waves a hand at their surroundings. "We said we'd never grow up," he reminds them, and all three are silent for a long time, minds drifting back to a day when the three made a quiet pact in the wooden shack.

"We didn't know what the future would look like," says Riku, "We still don't."

Kairi blinks up at the sky, which is gradually getting lighter. She remembers this sky, a sky so cerulean that it swallowed up any other skies she'd ever seen. "It doesn't matter," she says, "Whatever lies beyond this morning is a little later on."

Riku nods, although he's not sure he shares that sentiment. Their mutual past is so far behind him that he's not sure if it can fight away the fears of tomorrow. He's not even sure if he's willing to give it a try. It's taking a psychological risk, that's what it is, and although Riku can handle fists and threats, he's never been able to handle emotional pain. It's his weakness, which was why it was hard to even drive here today.

Sora wants so hard to believe Kairi. He wants to believe that this island, and this moment, is a step out of time for them, and that it always will be. But he knows that even as he thinks this, he's worrying about a hundred other things, things that don't really matter but are so hugely important in his life. He's wondering whether that's some kind of sign; that something's trying to tell him that the life he's leading isn't the right one.

Riku straightens. "Let's make a pact," he says, "Like the one we made before." He turns so that his back is facing the sunrise. He holds out a hand to help Kairi up, and then he reaches for Sora's, so that all three are holding onto each other in desperation, as if the simple presence of one another can fight away all their worries. "Let's promise to come back here every year, on this day."

Kairi looks up at him, a smile beginning to form on her lips. "Spit on it?"

"Spit on it," repeat Sora and Riku, and all three spit in their hands and mash their palms together, as if they aren't respectable twenty-somethings with jobs and reputations.

And they keep to their word. The next year, all three show up right on time to watch the sun begin to rise, and the next year, and the next year. And slowly, they begin to slip back into the people they once where; happy, carefree, simple. They've matured, yes, but that is just something that comes with time.

And, Sora thinks, maybe life _can_ give you a happy ending, after all.  
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oh. well. that turned out much darker than I planned.  
but i'm still really really happy with it.

(standard disclaimer applies)


End file.
